2. The Man From Osaka
"Mommy mommy please, let's go over there, let's go let's go over there! C'mon, now-now-now! Mommy!" The little girl pointed frantically at a storefront across the street. The mother shaded her eyes, trying to read the sign.
"Oh, Honey, I don't know…"
"Why not? The sign says they have cute kittens and lots n' lots of candy! Candy!"
"Well, honey, it just that sounds kind of – well, suspicious."
"Candy! Candy!"
"We can get candy at the supermarket, honey. I don't think we ought to go in there."
She pulled sternly on her daughter's hand, leading her away through the crowd; the girl looked back with wild disappointment at the blinding pastel storefront, where the signs read:
Uncle Shioji's House of Kittens n' Candy!
Cute-cute kittens! Sweet-sweet candy!
Free lollipops for customers under the age of twelve!
She pouted. It was is if the storefront had been fashioned from the raw substance of her fondest dreams.
Another girl, old enough to decide for herself which stores she patronized, stopped her bicycle in front Uncle Shioji's House of Kittens n' Candy. This was the address she had gotten from Soldier of Fortune magazine – although it hardly looked like arms dealer's establishment. The pink-lettered sign was adorned with cartoon peppermints and grinning kittens' heads. Perversely, though, she shuddered. Like the little girl's mother, she had a faint but inescapable sense of wrongness.
The door's bell jangled as she stepped inside. It was a narrow, dusty space, and there were no kittens or candy in evidence anywhere. Stripped walls still held the brackets of torn-down shelves. The only light came from a bare bulb, hanging from the ceiling near the back of the room. Excel walked gingerly forward.
"Don't be shy," said a smooth male voice. "Come right on in."
Just beyond the dim pool of light, she made out the shape of man sitting at a desk. His glasses caught a gleam of the light.
"Hey, shopkeep!" she called. "The sign says kittens! But I don't see any kittens."
"Oh, they're in the back. Would you like to—oh." He leaned forward, seemed to get a good look at Excel, and coughed apologetically. "Excuse me, Miss," he said. "You're a very attractive young women, but I must admit, you're not exactly a part of my – how should I say this – target demographic."
"I'm, uh, not exactly sure what means, but anyway, I've come here for—sa-a-ay, just how long has this place been open?"
"Oh, about three years, give or take."
"Then how come it looks like you just moved in?"
"Whatever could you mean?"
"And where's the candy?"
"It's in the back, too."
"Oh, hey, can I have some? I'm – really, really hungry. I've got money! Just gimme some candy, then I'll say what I came here for."
"We're – all out of candy at the moment, I'm afraid."
"Well how about kittens? I guess I could eat a kitten, if it came to—"
"We're out of kittens."
"Jeez! How you guys stay in business when you haven't got any of the stuff you say you sell—but o-o-oh, right! I'm not here to buy candy, or kittens! And the reason I haven't eaten a square meal in two-and-a-half days as I pedaled nonstop cross-country from Kobe, fighting with housecats over saucers of milk and pigeons over breadcrumbs is, I'm saving all the money I borrowed from Hatchan from the box marked 'E.E.'s college funds' so I can buy something from a man who lives in Osaka, which is why I've come here, to the city of Osaka, pedaling nonstop cross-country from Kobe so I can find a man named—" she stopped to catch her breath, then, checking the magazine clipping in her pocket, read: "Doctor Kozo Shioji."
The man behind the desk stood. When he spoke again, it was more gravely: "What do you want with Kozo Shioji?"
"Are you him? Cause I don't wanna say unless you're him."
"That depends. You're not one of those pesky Vice Squad people, are you? If so, Doctor Shioji is in the back. I can go get him if—"
"Vice Squad? No, I'm—"
"I am Doctor Kozo Shioji."
He stepped into the light. A tall, young, well-groomed man, whose opaque glasses hid his eyes, Doctor Shioji gave off an aura of menace that was only worsened when he smiled.
"Looking at you," he said, "I can see you're the type of young lady who appreciates a well-built weapon of mass destruction."
"I dunno about mass destruction," said Excel, scratching her head. "Have you got anything for just killing one person?"
"But of course. Step right this way, and I'll show you some of my latest projects."
"Ooh, are they in the back?"
"Not that back. Stand here next to me, in front of the desk."
Doctor Shioji produced a remote control, with a single red button, from his pocket. "By the bye," he said, as Excel approached, "might I ask your name?"
"Excel Excel." Her tone was wistful, and she looked at her feet. "First name Excel, last name Excel. Or just Excel for short."
"Ah," said Shioji knowingly. "Revenge."
"Huh! How'd you know?"
"Why else would such a beautiful young woman be so distressed? You must have been cheated in love! Love is the birth of hatred, you know. Thanks to love, I do a roaring trade in mines and air-to-ground missiles."
"You think you're pretty smart, huh? Well, for your information, I'm not out to get revenge on some stupid guy, or any – cheated love."
"Whatever you say. The customer is always right."
Shioji pressed the remote, and the floor gave way underneath them. They slid with a shriek of friction down a wide plastic chute, strangely like a child's slide, into darkness. Excel yelped – then, as they fell, a strange feeling of nostalgia gripped her. By the time they landed, she was on the verge of tears.
"I'm sorry," said Shioji, offering his hand. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"No – s'not that."
"Bad memories?"
"No!" she shrieked – then, to distract herself, took a look around. Her eyes widened. "Whoa! Hey."
"An abandoned military hangar," Shioji explained. "Another reason why this location was ideal."
They had landed on a catwalk, part of a network extending out of sight in every direction. There were few lights; but she could make out, inside the squares the catwalks formed, the vague and enormous shapes of humanoid robots. She whistled, and the sound was swallowed by a vaster space than she could imagine.
"I don't get it."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well you're out of candy and kittens, right?"
"I – yes. That's correct."
"So why not just open a store and sell this stuff?"
Shioji sighed. "Alas! It was the misfortune of this young genius to be saddled with – inclinations, rather incompatible with his natural gifts." He waved his hand around the enormous room. "Tinkering with these childish toys is my profession, not my passion." After a moment's hesitation, looking at the grim shapes of the robots, he added: "Tell me, Miss. Wouldn't it be a more beautiful world if, instead of manufacturing implements of death, men turned their efforts to selling candy and kittens?"
"But you don't have any candy. Or kittens."
"It's a matter of principles," he said, and adjusting his lab coat. "In any case, do you want to see what I have to offer or not?"
"Feast your eyes on this, the VE-6050 Pfadfinderin! I can say without any trace of ego that this is my finest work to date. If, on your journey, you should encounter Evangelion Unit One, Unit One will be crushed. Ne?"
Shioji turned with a sudden alarming smile to the cute young girl wearing a labcoat, whom he had introduced as his assistant.
"Ne!" she shrilled back, grinning.
Excel winced, without fully understanding the reason.
"Yuki-chan! Unveil the prototype!"
"Yessthir!" Yuki lisped, and pushed the large red button. Ropes whisked away the canvas which had covered the mecha. Shioji stood back, crossing his arms with a proud smirk, while Excel gaped. The VE-6050 Pfadfinderin towered over them, four times as tall as man. Yuki applauded.
Excel raised her hand. "Um, Mister Scientist, sir…"
"I understand, but don't feel as though you have to hold back when you praise me."
"I was just wonderin' – it's true that Excel's walnut-sized brain probably can't comprehend the finer points makin' robots, but – does it really have to be pink?"
"A natural result of combining the industry standard antirust compound with a special thickening agent designed to protect the armor from wear and tear."
"With teal highlights?"
"Those areas demarcated with teal are all related to the model's guidance systems."
"And what's with the skirt?"
"I'm very glad you asked! What so you quaintly refer to as the 'skirt' is in fact an integral part of the 6050's nigh-impenetrable body armor. Naturally, it protects the pelvic area, where the tertiary set of ground-to-air missiles are stored. You must be able see that it just wouldn't do if an enemy blow were to ignite—"
"Okay, how about the wand?"
"Nothing less than the 6050's primary mode of attack! Breech-loading firearms went the way of the crossbow, and, as the 6050 is rather lightly built for a mecha, a large beam rifle would only encumber it. That 'wand' is the state-of-the-art in long-range weaponry, capable projecting a thermal beam in excess of one thousand degrees—"
"It has hair. Curly hair."
"Fine copper wire, projecting a six-thousand-watt antistatic field. Renders the model impervious to all known forms of sensory jamming."
"Those reds spots on the cheeks? They look kind of like—"
"Infrared sensors."
"And the bows?"
"Oh," said Shioji, "those are just for decoration. They're awfully pretty, don't you think?" He turned to Yuki. "Ne?"
"Ne!"
Excel had no other immediate objections. Shioji turned to her, smiling.
"So, uh…" she began slowly, and spoke more and more slowly until her voice became a squeak. "I guess if it's really all that special, it must cost a whole lot of – money?"
"Not necessarily," said Shioji. He looked away. "In fact, if you'll allow me to make a phone call, it's just possible I might be able to grant you use of the 6050 Pfadfinderin – my proudest creation, I reiterate – at no cost whatsoever."
"Ooh! Yes, please!"
"Just a moment, then."
Excel felt another wriggle of unease as Shioji, slouching his shoulders, left the room. She looked at Yuki's bright face.
"Do ya like it?" said the girl, then confided in a whisper: "I helped make it a little."
"Doctor Shioji sure seems to like – cute – things," said Excel, uncertainly.
"That's right, sir." Shioji leaned against the other side of the door, cradling the phone against his ear. "Excel Excel. First name Excel, last name Excel. Or just Excel for short. Yes, sir, I agree, it's not a particularly common name. I understand, sir. I'll keep her occupied just a little longer. Yes, sir, naturally. Did you ever doubt me…?"
Excel's Preview: "Who the heck knows what darkness lurks in the heart of man, or woman, or even a teensy-weensy cute little girl who really doesn't like being described as a teensy-weensy, cute little girl; just ask Section Chief Murasaki!—who, in our next episode, 'Queen of the City Council,' gives a whole new meaning to phrase heads will roll! It's the prelude to that inevitable symphony of carnage which is sure to up the rating to 'R' as Excel Saga asks that age-old question: Do you know what it is to be an orphan? I sure don't! I'm pretty sure I have parents, if I can't remember seeing them in a really really long time!"
Author's Note: According to my online dictionary, pfadfinderin is the German for 'girl scout.' All mecha must have guttural-sounding German names. It's the law. Incidentally, the German for 'child molester' is kinderschänder
